Freudian Slip
by swAhILi2011
Summary: It was just one sentence, one simple sentence that slipped out in a heated moment, but what Spain's boss doesn't know is how much his words have an effect on Spain himself.  Rated T for language  mainly Romano
1. Prolouge

A/N: Hello! This is one that I actually wrote a few months back for the Kink-meme, and I figured I should de-anon it on here :'D It's rather short, but I rather proud of it

oOoOoOo

It was just a sentence.

It wasn't even yelled, or even spoken at a tone louder than if they'd been discussing something as harmless as the weather, rather than someone's life. Granted, when he thought back on it, he was fairly certain the man hadn't even known what his words had done-he was only human, after all, his slip was forgivable. Spain had always been a forgiving man as it was-except now he seemed to have found a situation where even his blind optimism couldn't help him hide from.

Because of those eleven words.

"I wish you would just disappear, you useless piece of shit."

The meeting had started like any other, or at least what Spain was used to. He got a call from his boss' secretary saying Mr. Velasquez would like to see him, and could he come in at noon? Spain had agreed, knowing he couldn't have refused even if he tried. He had been avoiding it, really, considering the current economic state of his country. It wasn't as if Spain hadn't noticed what was going on in his country-he may have seemed a complete idiot, but he wasn't really that stupid. He knew when things were going bad, but there came a point where even someone like them couldn't do anything to help. It's not like they could anyway-really, the meetings were just for show, to appease them. Because what could they do? If he could change it all with a word, he would, because feeling his people angry and starving and impoverished hurt him more than anything else.

His boss knew that he couldn't do anything, but he called him anyway, tapping out his cigar when the nation walked in. Spain was smiling like always, even if it was inexplicably strained. There had been riots all morning in Madrid, which manifested itself as a pounding headache and something akin to aching heartburn. But he still greeted the man with a cheery smile and a chipper "Hola, Señor Valasquez!"

The man just narrowed his beady eyes, harrumphing and crossing his arms around his rather thick middle as he stared down his nation's representative (which was a rather gutsy thing for him to do-had it been any other nation, he would have been put in his place. Spain distinctly remembered England having to be held back from shoving a pencil down one of his Prime Minister's throats when they chose to act shirty with him). But anyway, he was getting distracted-a habit of his, truthfully-and he could see the human's brown eyes narrowing even further.

"I suppose you've heard of the riots in the city?"

Spain just nodded, knowing better than to say anything. His tongue had a habit of getting him in deeper trouble than he was already in, so it was best to speak only when he needed to.

"Well, Señor Fernandez, things aren't going to well in your country. Do you know why that is?" The man raised his eyebrows and stared at him expectantly. Guess he needed a response this time. Damn.

"Because the economy isn't doing so hot?"

The man actually snorted at his use of casual language, spinning his chair so he was facing the window rather than Spain himself.

"If by that you mean slowly spiraling into deep depression then yes, Señor, I'd say you were correct. I bet that doesn't feel too pleasant, does it?"

Spain shook his head then, remembering the man's back was turned, said in a soft voice.

"No."

"I would imagine not. And yet here you are, the same grinning idiot as always." The man spun back around, and Spain winced at the sheer annoyance in his eyes. "Even Señor America is trying his hardest to fix his monetary issues, and yet all you've done is sit on your _culata_ and watch as your people drive themselves to ruin. Now, that doesn't seem like a very smart idea, does it?"

Spain wanted to tell him that there wasn't much he could do, that the economy wasn't under his direct control, that believe him, if he could do something, anything…but no, he'd said it many times already, and yet the man still seemed to believe that Spain was some magic being, who could fix things just by saying so. And he hated it.

"Señor, I have already tried coming up with several solutions, but-"

"They've all been as useless as you." The man finished, standing up out of his chair, and Spain could see the anger in his eyes now. "If you maybe actually used that brain of yours, maybe we'd get somewhere. Maybe people wouldn't be losing their jobs left and right, and children wouldn't be living on the streets like we've regressed several centuries. But that would be too much to put on the almighty personification of our nation, would it not?" the man spat, and Spain winced as the next words reached his ears, the words that would beat against his skull for weeks and weeks after.

"I wish you would just disappear, you useless piece of shit."


	2. Day One

Day One

oOoOoOo

Spain didn't notice anything until a full day later-his carelessness was to blame, of course. But when he woke up the next morning to a pounding headache and no recollection of how he got to bed in the first place, he was concerned. As far as he remembered, he hadn't drunk anything the night before after leaving his boss' office, and had simply gone home to find a snappy message from Romano reminding him that they were due for dinner that weekend and he better not forget again, stupid bastard! Spain chuckled at the memory, though that seemed to aggravate his aching head. He wondered if it was because of something happening to his people but…no, there were no messages on his phone, and surely they would have called him if something had happened.

Even if they didn't want him anymore.

Spain sighed-there was one thing he wished he DID forget. Not many bosses would dare tell their representative to disappear-in fact, as far as Spain remembered, there had never been a single case. Most bosses were respectful toward their nations, or simply too afraid of them to even think of saying anything against them. Spain got up, shrugged out of his pajamas and grabbing the first shirt he could find, fumbling with the buttons. He decided to go take some pain reliever (a useful thing to have, when you were dating a rather irritable Italian), and then get some work done. Despite his boss' beliefs to the contrary, Spain had been doing a fair amount of extra work to try and sort out the problem. Even if he was only as helpful as any other human in his government, he was still another pair of hands, and someone who had centuries of experience in the ways of the world. He walked down the stairs and was about to step into his kitchen when he heard a rather loud squawk as he nearly ran into someone.

"Bastard! Watch where you're going!" Romano snapped, and Spain immediately grinned and threw his arms around the other man, giving him a squeezing hug even as Romano squirmed.

"Lovi~!" He chirped, though he kept his voice a little lower than normal. "What a nice surprise!"

"What do you mean, you idiot? You're the one who called me and told me to come over!" Romano snapped, though Spain could see something flicker through his hazel eyes briefly. He scratched his head, one arm still wrapped around the other nation.

"Did I?"

"Don't fuck around, Spain." Romano said, but now Spain was sure-there was worry in the other's eyes as he put a hand to his tan forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm feeling fine, querido." Spain said, though it was only half true-his headache still hadn't gone away, and he still had to call to apologize to his boss. After all, he couldn't leave things the way they were with the way the economy was. They all needed to be together in th-

"Listen when I'm speaking, bastard!"

"Owch, Lovi, that hurt!" Spain pouted, rubbing his head where Romano had hit him. "Lo siento, did you say something?"

"Che, stupid bastard, of course I did!" Romano snapped, flicking his former boss in the forehead. "You're more of a dumbass than usual. Are you sure nothing happened?"

"Si, I already said I'm feeling fine, Lovi." Spain reassured him, squeezing him again and laughing pleasantly. "But it makes Boss very happy when you worry about him!"

"CHIGI! LET ME GO, YOU BASTA-NO, PUT ME DOWN, PUT ME DOWN, DON'T DRAG ME INTO THE LIVING RO-"

oOoOoOo

Romano left after breakfast, claiming he had only come to make sure Spain wasn't dead or something-"NOT THAT I WOULD CARE IF YOU DIED, YOU TOMATO LOVING BASTARD!"-and somehow his temper seemed to irk Spain even more than usual. It could have been explained by the lingering headache that he couldn't get rid of, and also a strange floating feeling every time he stood up. He just dismissed them as side effects of the current depression and rioting that was likely continuing in Madrid. Yes, that was it-just silly politics. He inhaled and slapped his cheeks, grinning determinedly as he stared at the papers he had to work on. He flopped into his chair and pulled out the first paper. It was around the fifteenth report that the words appeared to blur together and the next thing he knew his phone was ringing and somehow the sun had already disappeared. He blinked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Then he remembered what had awoken him from his unexpected sleep and rummaged around for his phone, finally finding it under the desk.

"¿Aló?"

"_Ah, Espagne! I was beginning to wonder if you'd lost your phone again."_

"Hola, Francis!" Spain quipped, mood instantly brightening, and the other nation chuckled.

"_Chipper as always, mon ami. It's good to know that you can remain in good spirits, even when the rest of your country is in such dire straits. You've always astounded me with that attitude of yours, mon cher."_

"Well, I've always thought it was better than moping about all the time or being a grouch like Arthur." Spain joked, noting that his headache had lessened slightly. Maybe he just needed more sleep…

"…_and of course Alfred is being a nuisance as always, so that doesn't help matters. I mean, really, using a time machine to fix things? Angleterre clearly raised that boy wrong."_

Spain realized that France had been talking, and by the sounds of it for a good minute at least, but he'd blanked out completely. Thankfully, with France, it was easy to tell which direction his conversation had been going, so he didn't have to "pull a Spain" and ask him to repeat because he'd been lost in thought again.

"Ah, well, it is Alfred. He's always been a rather interesting kid." Spain said, deciding it was time to try another dose of pain killers. He stood up and the whole world went sideways and upside down and then…

"_Antonio?" _France sounded concerned, and Spain wondered if he'd made some sort of noise or something. He laughed as the world righted itself again and said glibly.

"Just a slip. Nothing to worry about, Francis."

"_Are you sure? Your economy has been in near shambles for almost a year now, Espagne, and…well, to put it bluntly, your Boss is an ass."_

"No he isn't, Francis." Spain sighed as he went to the kitchen to find the bottle still open on the table. He cocked his head, not remembering leaving it down, but that wasn't too surprising. He was known to leave things in strange places rather frequently, and was known to lose important documents and other objects only to find them weeks later in some random location. Once he'd even found his passport in garden shed-

"…you're not listening again, aren't you?"

"¿Qué?" Spain blinked, and then another short burst of laughter escaped his lips. "I mean, of course I am. Lo siento, I'm just…not myself today."

"_I've noticed."_ Spain could almost hear France's frown-well, that was ridiculous. How could he hear a frown? He pondered it for a moment until France's voice made him lose that train of thought. "_Are you sure you don't want me to come over, mon ami? I have no meetings planned today, and I can fly over in a matter of hours."_

"You don't need to come over, it's just a bit of politics." Spain assured him, though he was beginning to have doubts himself. However, his Boss already thought he was weak, and running to France for help would only prove his point. So Spain just repeated. "I'll be fine, Francis."

"_If you're sure."_ France let out a dramatic sigh. _"Poo, and I was hoping to get out of having to see Arthur this afternoon. You're no help at all."_

"Lo siento." Spain replied, almost automatically as he poured himself a glass of water. "You shouldn't skip meetings, Francis."

"_It's not as if Angleterre and I could get anything done without tearing each other apart anyway." _France sighed melodramatically. "_I should go then. __A bientôt, mon ami!"_

"Adios." Spain replied, shutting his phone and setting it down on the table, only to misjudge the distance and have it clatter to the floor, as well as his glass which shattered and showered both him and the electronic device in water. He sat there staring at the shards of glass around his bare feet and the now useless device, and decided it was best to just crawl back under his covers and sleep away whatever was ailing him.

oOoOoOo

Querido-Darling

Lo siento-I'm sorry

¿Aló?-Hello (on the phone)

Mon ami-my friend

Mon cher-my dear

Qué-What

A bientôt-See you later (sorta)


	3. Day Two

Day Two

oOoOoOo

Spain woke up and was relieved to notice his headache seemed to have lessened slightly. After forcing himself out of his sheets, he noticed his clock, and tumbled onto the floor after reading the glaring red numbers.

"How did I sleep until two in the afternoon?" He gaped, biting his lip. It wasn't unusual for him to catch a few extra hours of sleep here and there, but to sleep a good eight hours past his normal waking time was almost unheard of. He shrugged and decided it was all for the better; after all, it wasn't like his Boss cared at a-he stopped that train of thought before it went any further. It didn't stand to be negative, after all-positive thinking was much more useful! He took a deep breath and put his game face on, pushing himself to standing. He could at least move without worrying about the world going loopy, which was good. He had to go to the office to try and make things up with his Boss, since there were already enough problems without silly spats. He pulled out a dress shirt and pants, even going so far as to tidy up his mussed hair. An hour later he left the house, having misplaced both his keys and one of his shoes only to find them right in the hall where they always were. He shrugged it off, blaming it on a lack of breakfast, but he really had no time.

"Hola, Señor Fernandez!" The secretary said cheerfully when he finally stumbled into the office half an hour later, having gotten lost twice on the way there. Spain still flashed her a big smile, waving.

"Hola, Señorita Hernandez." He said cheerfully. "Is the Boss in?"

"Sí." She replied with a smile, gesturing toward his office. "Go right in, Señor."

Spain smiled at her one last time before walking down the short hallway to his Boss' office. He knocked quietly on the door, but when he received no response he figured the man hadn't heard and, with a shrug, he opened the door partly, freezing when he heard a voice.

"…honestly, I wish we'd just get a new one. Personally, the one we have right now is just plain useless."

Spain backed up, but then he laughed quietly, shaking his head.

"You're being silly, Antonio." He scolded himself quietly. "He could be talking about any number of things, you're just being silly. Just go on in there."

But then the next thing he knew was the floor rising up- to meet him unexpectedly, and he gasped aloud as a sharp pain jolted through him. It was over in moments, though when he tried to stand up afterward everything was still a bit fuzzy at the edges, but by the time the door opened he was already smiling again even as his boss stared down at him, raising his thick eyebrows.

"What are you doing?" he asked gruffly, and Spain laughed nervously, scratching at his head.

"I just tripped. Lo siento, señor, if I disturbed you." He added, and the larger man shook his head.

"Where were you yesterday? You haven't been answering your cellular."

"Ah." Spain pondered that for a moment, and then he flushed, remembering the night before. "I spilt some water on it, actually."

"So it's broken?"

Spain knew that look-his boss was upset, and he immediately began apologising.

"Lo siento, really, it was an accident. See, the glass broke, and then the water went everywhere, and I dropped the phone too, so…anyway, I'll get a new one right away, Señor Velasquez, I promise."

"You do that." His boss said, though his tone was chilly. "Have you done any of the work you were supposed to do?"

"Ah, well, I've been working on it, but…" Spain wilted at the man's glare, and he laughed nervously. "I'll just head back home and finish it then."

Velasquez didn't say anything, instead turning back and going into his office. Spain just watched, wincing at the sound of slamming door before pulling himself to standing and walking back out of the building to his car.

oOoOoOo

Spain arrived home to find his landline phone blinking, which meant he had messages waiting, but he was too tired to bother listening. He stumbled into his room and flopped down on the bed, sighing. He could no longer deny that something was definitely wrong with him. The entire way home his heart had been pounding and his head was throbbing. He had almost fallen asleep at the wheel, despite the fact that he'd slept for more than sixteen hours the night before. He was about to drift off again, but then a sharp knock on his front door startled him awake. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes sleepily, and stumbled back out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When he finally got the door open (after several tries), he pulled the door open, a smile lighting his face when he saw who it was.

"Francis! Buenas Noches!"

"Antonio! Mon Dieu, mon ami, you look horrible!" France exclaimed, rushing forward, but Spain just laughed nervously.

"It's not that bad, Francis."

"But it is. Merde, Toni, what happened?" France frowned, bringing a hand to the other's forehead. "I didn't hear of anything major in your country. You told me it's just politics."

"It is." Spain lied, though it wasn't just that, and somehow he had come to a realization. It was definitely not something related to his country, though he knew it couldn't have been a normal sickness. Nations didn't catch human diseases-if they were ill, it meant something was wrong with their country. But his economy wasn't that bad, to be causing such symptoms. France grabbed his arm, steering him toward the kitchen.

"Have you eaten yet?" Spain thought for a moment and then shook his head. "I'll make you some of my amazing food then. You really sh-quoi?"

He looked down at the sound of crunching to find the pieces of glass from Spain's cup still covering the floor, though the water had dried. His phone was still sitting there too, and France picked it up, raising a golden eyebrow.

"Well, this explains why you didn't answer any of my calls."

Spain just laughed lightly, but the phone reminded him of what had happened in the office earlier that day, and he really, really didn't want to think about that. He shut his eyes as the throbbing of his head grew, leaning onto the table for support, and then…

The next thing he knew he was in bed, and France was sitting at the end of his bed saying something to him in some language. It took a good minute for him to realize it was Spanish, and he understood every word, but it had seemed like some gibberish just then…

"Antonio, we really need to find out what's going on with you."

"S'just politics." Spain muttered, and France shook his head, almost looking angry.

"That's what you've been saying for the past hour, mon ami, but that clearly is not the case."

"Hour…?" Spain breathed, blinking his green eyes owlishly. "Weren't we just in the kitchen?"

France's blue eyes widened, though he quickly tried to compose himself as he stared at his long-time friend.

"Non, Toni, that was at least an hour ago. You ate your food, and we talked, and I brought you up here…do you remember none of that?"

Spain hesitated, and then shook his head slowly. Just as France was about to open his mouth, however, he laughed nervously and cut in.

"I'm sure it's fine, Francis. I've always been a bit of an airhead, right? Maybe I just forgot…"

"Forgot an entire hour's worth of time? Dieu, Toni, this is even worse than I thought." France looked alarmed, and he immediately. "Perhaps I should ask around, see if anybody else-"

"No!" Spain cried, lurching forward to grab the other man's arm. "No, wait, you don't have to tell anyone…I'll be fine soon, I promise, so just don't say anything!"

"Toni, they're going to learn about it soon enough. They'll take one look at you, and…" France gestured toward him, and Spain knew he was right, but he just smiled wearily and said.

"They won't know, Francis. And by the time someone notices something, I'm sure I'll be well again."

France just raised one eyebrow sceptically, but he knew better than to argue. He sighed, shaking his head at Spain's smiling face and let his head sink into his hand.

He was going to regret this.


	4. Day Three

Day Three

oOoOoOo

When Romano came to pick Spain up for the World meeting the next day, he was rather annoyed to be greeted by France. The blonde was smiling, though Romano raised an eyebrow when he noticed the bags under France's normally bright eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he snapped, and France just smirked.

"I am obviously here to visit, mon cher ami Toni." He told, waving his hand in a fluid motion to invite Romano inside. The southern half of Italy snorted but went inside, glaring at France with a pout.

"That doesn't explain what you're doing in his house this early in the morning. I'm not driving you to the meeting too, wine bastard."

"I have my own car, petit Romano." France replied, going back to the kitchen where Romano could smell the pancakes he had been cooking. Romano sat at the table, still glaring at the other nation.

"Where is he? We're supposed to be leaving in half an hour."

"Still asleep, I imagine." France said calmly, though there was an indescribable look on his face, and somehow that worried him. Romano crossed his arms and stood up, his chair scraping across the floor loudly.

"I'm going to go wake him up, then."

"Arretez."

Romano stopped with his hand on the doorframe, turning to look at France with his eyebrows drawn together in annoyance.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I should warn you he is a bit, ah, under the weather."

"What are you talking about? The bastard got himself sick?" No, of course that wasn't a hint of fear in his voice. Definitely not. "Is it his economy?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure it will pass." Which was a lie, but he knew how Romano would react to the reality of Spain's condition. France still had no idea what was wrong, though he'd been investigating it as best he could while Spain slept with no results. Romano paused for only another moment, and then he stomped off, and France could hear his hurried footsteps trailing up the stairs and then the creak of Spain's door opening. He sighed, shaking his head and turning back to his pancakes…

Meanwhile, Romano stepped into Spain's room, not even bothering to knock. When he stepped inside Spain was sitting up, his brown hair sticking up in every direction. He smiled at Romano, though it wasn't quite right, and that made Romano freeze. Even with France's warning, he hadn't been prepared for the almost pitiful sight before him. Spain's skin was several shades shy of its normal deep tan, and his green eyes seemed rather dull, and it was just so….wrong.

"….the fuck."

"Hm?" Spain cocked his head, his eyes wide and innocent, but he could also see something else in them, and for some reason he was shaking.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Romano asked, the pitch of his voice rising. "You look….you look like shit!"

"Ah ha, I bet I do, don't I?" Spain laughed nervously, but that damned smile was still there as Romano stood trembling in the doorway. "It's just a bit of politics, Lovinito, nothing to worry about."

"Don't tell me what to fucking worry about!" Romano snapped, finally forcing his feet forward just as Spain threw off his covers. "I've seen that before, and that doesn't look a damn thing like this. This is….damn bastard, why don't you take better care of yourself!"

"That's not what this is about, Lovi." Spain assured him, trying to stand, and Romano was horrified to notice the older nation's legs trembling violently at the effort. He lunged forward just in time to catch him as they gave out and sent him tumbling to the floor again. He laughed again, though this time it seemed almost hysteric.

"Whoops."

"Don't 'whoops' me, you bastard!" Romano said, hazel eyes wide, and then he heard the sound of rapid footsteps as France appeared in the doorway.

"I heard something, are you alright?"

Spain looked confused for a moment and he asked slowly.

"When did you get here, Francis?"

France froze, his blue eyes widening, and he could see Romano's doing the same. His mouth opened and closed several times, until he finally got the words out.

"I…I've been here since last night, Toni. Do you…" he frowned, took a deep breath, and asked the question, though he dreaded the response. "Do you not remember?"

Spain's brow furrowed in deep concentration, knowing from France's disbelieving tone that something was wrong. After a long moment he finally shook his head, bowing it as if in shame. France stared at him, and then glanced at Romano whose grip on the other nation had tightened. He could see the worry and fear mixed in his normally narrowed hazel eyes, and he knew exactly how the man must have felt. Spain may have always been a bit oblivious, and maybe even an airhead, but for him to have forgotten such a large amount of time was frightening. When Spain finally looked back up he was smiling again, though it was now even more strained than before.

"Well, that's a bit weird, I guess. Still, it isn-"

He should have expected the punch to the shoulder that earned him, but he was even more surprised to see the pure worry in Romano's eyes, for once clear behind his shield of anger. France was still standing in the doorway, watching the couple as he tried to sort through things in his mind, trying to come up with something, anything, that would explain what was happening to his friend. Spain just sighed, reaching out a shaking hand to ruffle Romano's hair.

"We're going to be late to the meeting, Lovi."

"You're sure as fuck not going." Romano grumbled, and Spain raised his eyebrows.

"But Lovi, I have to go! You know how annoyed they get when someone doesn't show up."

"I don't care." Romano replied, tugging his former boss back to his bed. "You're going to go back to bed. I'll call that stupid brother of mine to let them know we won't be going."

"But Lovinito-"

"Don't call me that!" Romano snapped, chucking a pillow at Spain's head before exiting the room, shoving past France who had yet to move from the doorway.

oOoOoOo

Italy had been happily curled up at Germany's side when his cell phone rang. He pouted but reluctantly shifted away from the other nation's side to grab the device and flipped it over, mumbling sleepily.

"Pronto…"

"Veneziano?"

"Ve, fratello!" He perked up, grinning-it was rare for his brother to call him. "Shouldn't you be at big brother Spain's house?"

"I am." Romano replied, and the tone of his voice finally alerted Italy.

"Ve, fratello, is something wrong?"

"No." Romano replied, but Italy knew he was lying right away-they were brothers, after all. "I know it's my turn, but…fuck, could you go to the meeting instead?"

"Sure!" Italy replied cheerfully, knowing that if his brother didn't want to tell him what was going on then he simply wasn't going to get it out of him. He heard Romano heave a sigh of relief, muttering.

"Grazie, Veneziano."

"Prego!" Italy replied, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. "Ve, that means I should get ready…ciao, fratello!"

"Cia-oh, and that French bastard and Antonio won't be going either."

"Va bene." Italy replied sleepily, and said again. "Ciao, fratello."

His brother hung up without responding, but Italy didn't expect him to. He could tell his brother was upset, especially since he hadn't scolded or snapped at his brother once. He frowned for a moment, then resolved to drop by Spain's house sometime in the next few days. He sighed, but then his smile returned when he turned to look at Germany's sleeping face and poked him until the other nation finally woke up. Germany glared at him, sighing as he brushed a hand through his messy hair.

"Guten Morgen, Italy." He said gruffly, and Italy grinned, throwing his arms around the German.

"Buongiorno! " he chirped, grinning as he nuzzled Germany's neck and the other man blushed furiously, though Italy was happy to note that he didn't try to push him off. "Ve, I'm going to the meeting now!"

"Really? Did your brother back out?" Germany asked, and Italy shook his head.

"No, he would never do that! But I think something must have happened at big brother Spain's house, because he and France aren't going either!"

"Really?" Germany raised his pale eyebrows, and Italy nodded. "That's odd. Did he say why?"

"Nope! Oh, but we should get going, if he's there already!" Italy looked at the clock on Germany's nightstand, and Germany did the same. When he saw the numbers he gaped and then flung himself out of bed, causing Italy to drop to the floor.

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner, Italy? Damn it, we're going to be late!"

oOoOoOo

"He hates me."

France raised both eyebrows, turning to look behind him. He was sitting on the edge of Spain's bed, reading a book he'd found on the floor while they waited for Romano to make his phone call. Spain was staring at the ceiling, a distant look in his olive eyes, and France wondered if he even knew he was speaking aloud. He cleared his throat, asking in a low voice.

"Who hates you, mon ami?"

"Señor Velasquez." Spain replied, laughing weakly. "He even told me so. Several times, actually."

His tone was light, and that only made it worse. France bit his lip, trying not to burst out with some biting remark about just how much he'd always disliked the man. Ever since he had been elected, many of the nations expressed their dislike with the way he ran things, and France had always been one of those most upset by it. The man's incompetence was what had driven Spain into such a dire situation as it was, and he was probably blaming it all on Spain himself, and that was just plain wrong. Spain just gave another strained laugh and continued.

"He said I was useless, because I can't fix this with one wave of my hand. I told him I'm trying, I really am, but he said I was so useless, and…and then he said he wanted me to disappear."

France felt his heart skip a beat, and he stared at his friend in horror. He hadn't known things had gotten that bad, and suddenly he was having his suspicions about Spain's 'illness'. He had to confirm it, though, so he asked.

"Did he actually say that to you?"

Spain nodded, still staring at the ceiling as he whispered.

"He told me that he wished I would just disappear. And then, when I went to his office I overhead him on the phone, and he said he wanted a new personification, because I'm so useless…."

"You're not, Antonio." France said quickly, feeling almost sick at hearing his friend saying the words. "You're not useless, that bastard just doesn't know what he's saying. Mon Dieu, I'd like to go over there right there and teach him a few things…"

"That won't help anything, Francis." Spain said, and somehow his eerie calm was terrifying as he coughed lightly. "Where did Lovi go?"

"He's making a call. He'll be back soon." France replied distractedly, still thinking it over. He couldn't shake the feeling that the ordeal with Spain's boss had something to do with his current condition, but he'd never heard of something like that happening before. What if…he froze, not wanting to think it, yet somehow it made sense.

So much sense that he almost wished he hadn't thought of it.

Because if that's what it was, then there was little hope of Spain ever really recovering, and he'd be gone. France never wanted that to happen.

"You said Monsieur Velasquez told you to, ah, 'disappear', correct?" he asked, even if he didn't want the confirmation, because he had to know. Spain nodded, and his fears were confirmed, and the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop him.

"I think that's exactly what's going to happen."

Spain finally turned to meet his gaze, blinking owlishly.

"¿Qué?"

"I think….merde, Toni, I think you're going to leave us." He tried to put it the best way he could, but they both knew what it meant, and Spain's eyes widened as it hit him.

He was going to vanish.

He was going to die.

"Dios mío..." Spain breathed, and if he'd been standing he surely would have fainted at the realization. He was going to disappear, he only had a short amount of time left on this earth. Somehow, all he could think of was his dear Lovino…

"How am I going to tell him?" he whispered, and France just shook his head.

"I don't know…Dieu, Antonio, you should be more worried about yourself! Yo-you're going to…"

Spain just laughed nervously, curling up on his side facing away from France as he whispered.

"Maybe you're wrong. I-it might just be a coincidence, Francis." He laughed again, though it turned into pained coughs. "I'm sure I'll get better soon."

"You don't actually believe that." France said, and Spain's silence was answer enough.

oOoOoOo

Translations:

Petit Romano-Little Romano

Arretez- Stop

Pronto-Hello (on the phone)

Fratello- Brother

Grazie-thanks

Prego- You're welcome (basically)

Va bene- okay

Guten Morgen-Good Morning

Buongiorno- Good Morning

Dios Mio-My God


	5. Day Four

Day Four

oOoOoOo

By the next morning Romano knew that something was horribly wrong with Spain, and he didn't know what. The man could barely even sit up on his own now, even though the same annoying smile was still on his face as Romano sat up and stretched, having fallen asleep curled at the end of Spain's bed so he'd know if the other man tried to get up. Spain watched him, and Romano shot him a glare as he chuckled.

"What're you laughing at, bastard!"

"You're so adorable, querido." Spain replied, still grinning even though he was looking worse and worse, and Romano could only imagine how much pain he was in. The worst thing was that somehow he was missing something, something that had happened while he was on the phone the day before, and that pissed him off for some reason. The situation was so serious, and yet they felt the need to keep Romano in the dark?

"Are you pouting?" Spain chuckled, though it turned to hacking coughs that had Romano springing up from his position and moving to his side, handing his former boss a cup of water that they'd kept nearby for just that purpose. When Spain's breathing had calmed down once again his smile was back, and he reached out to put an arm around Romano, surprised when he received little resistance. He experimented, laying his head down on Romano's shoulder, and he was still not shoved off, though he felt the other man stiffen at his touch. He laughed softly, shutting his eyes and sighing.

"You don't have to coddle me if it makes you uncomfortable, Lovinito."

"Shut up, tomato bastard." Romano grumbled, but then he added in much softer and very uncharacteristic voice. "I don't hate it."

"Really?" Spain brightened, though he didn't move from his position. "But you always snap at me when I try to be all cuddly."

"That's-" Romano shut his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out in a deep sigh as he gazed up at the ceiling. "I don't mean to be so rude. It's just, you know…" he grumbled incoherently for a bit, though Spain caught something along the lines of, "That's the way I am, you stupid, tomato loving idiot," and he knew that was as close to confessing his feelings Romano would ever get. He honestly didn't mind, because he knew that was just how Romano was, and he wouldn't change a thing because that was part of the reason why he loved him so much. He snuggled into Romano, letting his eyes drift shut again as he sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like this, Lovinito." He said softly, and Romano just flicked his forehead softly.

"Idiot, just worry about yourself! Fuck, you…" Romano clenched his fists. "I'm so worried about you."

Spain's eyes flew open at the confession, and he could see even from his position how red the nation's ears were, a sign he was extremely embarrassed, and he smiled, forcing himself up enough so that he could peck Romano's cheek. He chuckled softly and let his eyes drift shut once again, suddenly very exhausted, and muttered sleepily.

"Te amo, Lovino."

And he could have sworn (though it may have been delirium) that he heard Romano reply.

"Ti amo, bastard…Antonio."

oOoOoOo

France had gone to Madrid (where the current set of meetings was taking place, despite the troubles the area had been undergoing), if only to inform the others of as much of the issue as he felt comfortable sharing. He knew Spain would rather he say nothing, but the other nations were bound to get suspicious at some point, so it was best they know something at least. When he got there England immediately tried picking a fight with him, but he faltered at the sight of France's for once not perfectly combed hair, and the weary look on his face. He frowned, large eyebrows drawing together.

"What's up with you, frog?" he asked, and France just waved him off.

"It is nothing, Angleterre. However, there is another matter that I must inform all of you about." He sighed, looking out at the assembled, and he could see Italy cock his head, looking confused. He just tried to smile reassuringly, though he didn't know if it helped, since he was exhausted and in a rather peevish mood. He had been restraining himself (if only just) from going right over to the political headquarters of Spain and punching that bastard of a boss right in the face. He took a deep breath and said.

"There is a situation with one of our own, something that is of a rather, ah, grave nature." He cleared his throat, putting his hands down on the table firmly. "Antonio is very ill, and the nature of it is rather, well…"

"Just spit it out." England said, though he looked rather interested and he almost thought he saw a bit of concern in his eyes.

"It has to do with his Boss. Monsieur Velasquez said something very out of line, and while it may seem crazy, I think that is the cause of his current illness."

There was an outbreak of muttering from the assembled nations, and Italy burst into tears when Germany paraphrased France's words.

"Big brother Spain is going to d-die?" he whimpered, and France ran a hand through his hair.

"I…I honestly don't know, Italie. I wish I could say he was going to fine, that he would get better but….merde, I just don't know." France sighed again, and England's eyes widened.

"Is it that bad?"

France just nodded, his voice lowering, and he sounded very old at that point and it surprised a lot of the other nations into silence.

"It scares me, Arthur. I-I've never seen him like this before, even during his civil war, and then he smiles that same old smile, and tells me it'll be okay, but it just…won't…"

France slumped into the nearest chair, putting his face in his hands and taking a shaky breath. The other nations watched in stunned silence, even the most flighty of nations understanding the gravity of the situation. There was a long silence where no one dared speak, and then America whispered.

"What did he say to him? Ya know, his boss."

"He told him to disappear."

The was a stunned silence, and he could feel the other nations' mixture of confusion and horror at the statement, and then a sudden anger.

"That wanker." England hissed, and France was surprised at the genuine anger in his voice. "What gives him the right to say something like that? Does he know who we are, what we are?"

"Well, apparently their words do have a good amount of sway over us." Germany said, looking grim. "If that really is the cause of this, then that means that is what will actually end up happening."

"Can we stop it?" Austria asked, and several nations echoed that statement. France just shrugged, saying in an almost broken voice.

"Je ne sais pas. Je ne sais pas, mais….Dieu, if there is anything we can try, I will do it."

oOoOoOo

"Where the fuck were you?"

Romano crossed his arms moodily, glaring at France who had entered the kitchen when he'd arrived. France just shook his head wearily, slumping into a chair.

"The meeting. Is Antonio sleeping?"

"Obviously. Wine bastard." He added half-heartedly, turning back to the pasta he'd been cooking before France got there. "He's been asleep since about noon, so he'll probably be awake soon. I hope."

France had a feeling Romano didn't even know he'd let the last part slip, and he saw the tan hand on the spoon shaking. He stood up and put a hand on the other's shoulder, causing the other man to stiffen and lash out, though his punch didn't even hurt much. Romano's hazel eyes were watery, and he immediately tried to scrub at them, grumbling.

"I'm not fucking crying."

"Of course you're not." France said soothingly, any animosity gone because of their shared pain. Romano tried to hold back, but then the tears were pouring down his cheeks freely, and somehow he ended up in France's arms, the blonde's hand rubbing his back in a calming manner. He knew that once he'd stopped crying Romano was going to be just as hostile as always, and make him swear to never speak of it again, but at that moment all France could see was a heartbroken young man who was losing the one he loved more than anything in the world. France had known for years how much the two loved each other, even if Romano would never admit it. But from what he could make of Romano's sobbed words, the younger nation was terrified, whimpering.

"Wh-what if he dies? Th-that bastard probably thinks I h-hate him…"

"Non, he knows you love him, I am sure of it." France told him, and he knew it was the truth. Every time he hung out with Spain, the man would go on and on about his "adorable little tomato", and every time his green eyes would light up. France would never admit it, but he had always been a bit jealous of the way Spain could pour his heart into something so purely and whole heartedly. Romano finally pushed away when the water almost boiled over. He went back to his cooking, trying to ignore the fact that he'd just been bawling into France's chest. France didn't say anything, because he knew how Romano felt. After all, it may have been a different sort of love, but France loved Spain too, and he didn't want to see him in any kind of pain. He just watched as Romano strained the noodles, putting them on a plate and pouring the sauce over it expertly. He was silent, and the tips of his ears were red as he picked up the plate and left the room. France followed him up the stairs to Spain's room, and he when Romano opened the door he saw the man's eyes widen, and then his eyes narrowed and he stomped into the room.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Spain looked up innocently, smiling weakly as France entered the room. He had several papers in his lap and a pen at the corner of his mouth. Romano stormed over, setting down the food on the side table and then turning back to Spain with a furious look on his face.

"Put that down now, you fucking idiot! You're supposed to be resting!"

"But querido, I have some work to catch up on." Spain said innocently, and Romano jerk the pen from his fingers, grabbing the papers as well.

"You shouldn't be worrying about any of this shit! Y-you should be focusing on getting better, idiot…"

"Lovi…" Spain sighed, but he was still smiling tightly. "I'll be just fine, Lovi. It's just politics, I told you that."

"And I don't fucking believe you. It…it can't just be that, and you know it!" Romano snapped, his hands balling into fists as he stared at the floor, and while Spain couldn't see his face, France saw tears in his hazel eyes once again. He opened his mouth to tell him, but then Spain shook his head and he cut himself off. Spain was a really good friend, but…Romano deserved to know, and they both knew it. But he knew the other nation was trying protect Romano somehow, like he had been for so many years, even though he knew it annoyed Romano to no end. Said nation was now glaring at his once-caretaker, and then jabbed his finger at the food.

"Eat that. I'm going downstairs to put this shit away, and that better be gone by the time I come back."

He stormed back out of the room, leaving France and Spain alone. The latter picked the plate of food, breathing in deeply. A sad smile spread across his face as he scooped some of the pasta onto his fork and put it into his mouth. After he swallowed he whispered quietly.

"He's always made the most delicious pasta. He'll never admit it, but he really does."

"You should tell him, mon ami." France intoned quietly, but Spain just shook his head, taking another bite.

"He'll do something stupid, Francis. He's hotheaded, he never thinks about things rationally."

"But you can't just hide it from him, Toni. He's already so worried about you."

"I can pull myself together enough to not worry him, I'm sure." Spain said, though his smiled lacked any confidence, and France just shook his head.

"You can't even stand, Antonio."

"I could if I tried. It'd just hurt a teeny bit." Spain laughed weakly, and France gritted his teeth.

"You will do no such thing." France groaned, resting his head in a hand. "You need to just rest and let us take care of this, alright?"

oOoOoOo

"Romano?"

The younger nation was on Spain's couch, his legs curled up and his head tucked in his crossed arms. His shoulders were shaking, but France could tell he wasn't crying. In fact, from the stiffness of his shoulders, he looked more angry than anything else. France sighed, sitting next to him, but Romano didn't even look up.

"He's an idiot." He grumbled, and France chuckled without humour.

"Oui, he is. But he is just trying to keep us from worrying, that's how he is."

"He's a fucking idiot is what he is." Romano snapped, but his arms tightened as he curled up even more. He was rocking slightly, and Spain could hear him taking deep breaths to force himself to be calm. He put a hand on the other's back, but this time Romano swatted it away.

"What the fuck is going on? I know you know something, wine-sucking bastard."

France sighed, shaking his head wearily.

"I cannot tell you. He doesn't want you to know."

"I don't give a flying fuck." Romano surprised him by uncurling in an instant, grabbing at his collar. His hazel eyes were narrowed dangerously, and France swallowed nervously. Most people never even realized that the Italies had their dangerous sides, but he had heard Spain mentioning the "mafia" side of Romano, something even he found a little frightening. And France could see why, with the angry Italian glaring at him and jerking him up by the collar. He sighed, trying to reason with the other man.

"Please put me down, Romano, and let's discuss this rationally."

"You're going to tell me what's going on, you bastard, or I swear I'll fuck you up." Romano hissed, shaking France as if to punctuate his point. France swallowed, actually frightened by the dangerous look in Romano's eyes, and then finally nodded.

"Oui, fine, I will tell you what I know. But you must not let Toni know I told you, alright?"

Romano just dropped him to the floor, and he picked himself back up, brushing off his pants. Romano crossed him arms and sunk back onto the couch, glaring at France with a pout on his lips. He could still see the barely-controlled anger, however, and knew it was best to just tell the boy what he knew. Maybe between the two of them they could come up with a solution…

"Antonio's Boss, said something to him a few days ago, when he went into the office. He told me the man told him to…to disappear."

Romano's face went blank for a second, then horrified, then settled into a grim fury.

"That fucking bastard. So he caused this…I'm going to kill him!"

"Romano, wait!" France grabbed his arms before Romano could storm out of the house, and the angry Italian whirled to face him. His hazel eyes were narrowed in annoyance, and he could see a sense of vengeance in them that was almost frightening. He held tight to the other nation's arm, however, and said sternly.

"Stomping over there and causing trouble isn't going to help Toni at all, Romano. We need to think of a way to fix this."

"We don't have any fucking time. He's already forgetting large chunks of time, can't stand, he sounds fucking miserable, he's…" Romano was losing his drive, overwhelmed now by sadness and worry. He let himself get led back to the couch, where he flopped down and curled up once more, but France could see the anger somehow still alive in his eyes. After a few silent minutes they began talking, trying to think of a way to save their friend, and they did so for several hours until the sky began to dim and night fell…

oOoOoOo

When Romano fixed dinner that evening and brought it up, Spain was still asleep. He was almost grateful for that, because he was in a horrible mood. He and France had been trying for hours to come up with a solution, with no results whatsoever. He had hoped they would come up with something, because the part of him that was the home of the mafia wanted him to storm into the government office and let Velasquez have a piece of his mind. He ground his teeth, trying to calm himself down again just as Spain stirred, blinking open his green eyes slowly. When he saw who it was, however, his face brightened immediately.

"Lovi!"

"Tomato bastard." Romano grumbled tersely in response, and Spain cocked his head.

"Are you mad at me, querdio? Did I…did I do something I don't remember?"

Romano choked as Spain's face fell, his voice low and he felt his heart wrench at the crestfallen tone it took on. He shook his head immediately, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm not mad at you, stupid Spain. I'm just…worried, okay?"

"You're worried about me?" Spain actually looked surprised, and that worried Romano more. Surely he'd said the very thing sometime in the past few days…if it was really getting that bad…

"Of course I'm fucking worried. Bastard…Antonio, you're…"

Romano felt the anger return, but it brought with it a harsh sadness at the realization that he might not have much time left. He had to think up a solution fast, but he was still utterly lost. He glanced back over at Spain, forcing himself to keep up his normal barriers of anger, but looking at Spain's tired eyes and the bruises under them made him want to cry again. Spain just frowned, but then he sighed and smiled wearily, holding out his arms.

"I'm sorry, Lovi. I really am."

"It's not your fault, damn it." Romano snapped, his fists clenching. "I…I'm going to leave for the rest of the night. Will you be fine by yourself?"

"Si, of course I will." Spain assured him, but Romano just bit his lip, not sure himself. But he knew he had to solve this himself, to save the man he'd always loved.

Yes, he'd admit it to himself-he loved Spain, had for over a century, but…he couldn't bring himself to admit it out loud. Even though he knew Spain knew it no matter what, he was gripped by a sudden fear of not being able to admit his feelings before it was too late, and he surprised even himself when he threw himself into Spain's open arms. Spain's eyes widened momentarily in surprise, but then his arms wrapped around the other man, frowning when he felt Romano begin to tremble.

"Oh, querido, did something happen?"

"No." Romano lied, remembering France's words earlier. He knew Spain wouldn't let him leave if he knew that Romano had been told the entirety of the situation, and then he wouldn't be able to find a way to save him. He let himself be held for several minutes, knowing it helped not only him but Spain as well since he so rarely let the other man just hold him like that. It simply wasn't in Romano's nature to be overly affectionate, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy it either. But when his gaze drifted over to the clock he swore and pushed away, heading toward the door.

"I have things to do. I'll be back before morning, you bastard, but don't you dare wait up for me! Just…just eat the food and go to sleep!"

Spain couldn't help but chuckle softly as Romano slammed the door, even if it aggravated his headache. He knew it was Romano's own way of caring for him, and so he ate his meal quickly and, exhausted, settled back in under the covers.

oOoOoOo

Romano wasn't sure where he was going, all he knew is that he was going to find a way to keep Spain from dying. He had stormed out of the house and flung himself into his Ferrari and started driving. Spain lived deep in the countryside, preferring it over the clamour of the city. He didn't realize where he was subconsciously heading until he was almost in Madrid, but he didn't turn around. He needed answers, and where better to start than the man who had caused it?

"Buenas Noches, Señor Vargas." The pretty secretary greeted him. On a normal circumstance he would have flirted with her for a good while before getting to business, but he had no time for such things now.

"Is Velasquez in his office?" he snapped, and she nodded, looking frightened.

"S-si, Señor Vargas, he is. I-I don't remember you having an appointment with him…"

"I have to talk to him. Now." He added curtly, and she nodded meekly, gesturing to the hallway behind her.

"He's alone at the moment, but he has an appointment in twenty minutes."

"I won't be long." Romano assured her tersely, stomping off down the hall. He opened the door with a bang, starling the older man who slopped the coffee he had in hand down his front. He coughed and choked for several seconds, glaring up at the nation.

"What do you think you're doing bursting in here, Vargas?"

"You should know damn well why I'm here." Romano growled, slamming his hands down on the desk and ignoring the jolt of pain up his arms. "You're going to fix him, or I swear I will fucking kill you."

"I'm afraid I still have no idea what you're going on about." Velasquez narrowed his eyes. "Would you mind informing me?"

Romano scowled and reached across the desk, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt and yanking him forward. The man let out a rather undignified squawk and immediately protested.

"Put me down right this instant, or I will have my men remove you by force."

"As if they could, you fucker." Romano spat, yanking him even closer. "You're the bastard who caused this shit, and you're sure as fuck going to fix it!"

"You still haven't told me what it is I have done. Does it have to do with that idiot nation of mine?" He snorted, and Romano almost hit him right there.

"Yes it does, you fucking asshole!" He snarled, shaking him harshly. "He's fucking dying, and it's all your fault, you bastard!"

"What?" The man raised his eyebrows, and then he had the gall to snort derisively. "Is this a joke, Vargas? Because I am a very busy man, and-"

"NO IT'S NOT A JOKE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Romano couldn't take it anymore and launched himself over the desk, causing them both to crash to the ground on the other side, and he barely heard the door opening as several Spanish soldiers marched in and tried to pry him off of their leader, but he could be incredibly stubborn when he wanted to be, and he wasn't letting go that easily. "He's…he's going to die because you told him to disappear, you fucker, and...damn it, you have to find a way to stop it!"

"What makes you think I want to?"

Romano froze, and the soldiers took the opportunity to pull him off of Velasquez. He struggled, glaring at the man on the floor vehemently.

"DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE DONE?" He yelled loudly, trying to get at him again. "TONI'S GONNA DIE BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU BASTARD AND YOU…you d-don't even care…bastard…."

The anger left him and he slumped in the Spanish soldiers' arms, tears pouring down his cheeks as he continued.

"He's your own nation, and y-yet you treat him like he's nothing, like he isn't t-trying his damn hardest to make s-s-sure that you people have better lives, and….fuck, per favore, save him…por favor…"

Velasquez just stared at him, surprised to see a nation breaking down like he was, and he saw the first flicker of pity in the human's eyes. He coughed nervously, standing up and brushing off his suit as he said calmly.

"So what exactly is going on with him?"

Romano had to take several deep breaths to regain his composure, and then he shrugged out of the grip of the people holding him.

"He's…sick. He's forgetting things, he can barely even stand…he sleeps almost the whole day…"

"All that in only three days?" The man's eyes widened, and Romano hoped that was concern he saw in his eyes, but it was gone in a flash as his face went neutral again. "What will happen if he truly does, ah, disappear?"

"I don't know." Romano bit out, but his eyes were still glistening, and the thought of a probable new representative of Spain wasn't helping at all. Someone who was Spain, and yet wasn't…the mere thought almost broke his heart. Velasquez regarded him coolly, then seemed to go into deep thought for a long minute before he spoke again.

"So you want me save him…but what if I can't?"

"You started this, you sure as hell better be able to save him!" Romano yelled, taking a step forward only to be held back by one of the soldiers. "If he dies…fuck, if he dies, I'm going to kill you myself, do you understand me? I will fucking MURDER you!"

"Threatening me won't make this any easier, Vargas." The man said coldly, but he had a thoughtful expression on his face. "I'll think about helping you."

"We don't have any fucking time!" Romano snapped, glaring at the soldiers behind him impeding him. He was trembling with pure fury now, turning his harsh gaze back on the man in front of him. "We don't have the luxury of letting you fuck around until you decide you want to help. Antonio is DYING, damn it!"

"You have made that rather clear, Vargas." Velasquez remarked, but he sighed. "I will drop by the house at noon tomorrow, but don't expect much. I have no idea how you're thinking to solve this problem."

"Well you better fucking figure something out. I'll see you tomorrow." He shoved the soldiers to the side and stormed out of the office, not even stopping at the secretary's queries. He didn't start crying until he was on the highway heading back toward Spain's house.

oOoOoOo

France was frowning when Romano finally pulled into the driveway, waiting for him on the porch. He knew exactly where the other man had gone, and he did not approve.

"I told you not to go to him." He scolded as Romano got out of his car, and that was met with a glare as Romano stomped past him.

"I'm in the mood for it, wine-sucking bastard. Just…no."

France raised his eyebrows, then he noticed the redness of Romano's eyes, and the tell-tale scratchiness of his voice. He immediately felt bad for the other nation. Romano loved Spain-as the country of love, he knew it when he saw it, and he had realized several centuries ago how the two felt about each other. While Spain loved to declare it to the world, however, Romano always responded with gruff words and harsh actions, but both France and Spain knew that was his personal way of saying "I love you". Romano was already halfway up the stairs by the time France re-entered the house, and he followed the boy. When he got to the doorway, Romano was already sitting on the edge of Spain's bed, his hand to the normally tan forehead.

"He's cold…" he whispered, his hazel eyes wide with fear. "Shit….shit, shit, it's happening too fast…we don't have any time. Fuck…"

If there was one thing France had learned about Romano, it was that the more he swore, the more upset Romano was. He walked over and sat next to Romano hesitantly, looking down at his best friend. He thought with a slight shudder that he had never Spain that pale, and it was unsettling. Spain had always sported such sun-kissed skin (of which he was very proud of), and he knew Romano was thinking about it too.

"He'll make it, Romano." France said softly, but Romano still jumped at the sound of his voice. "He'll get better, I promise. He's stubborn when he wants to be."

"But what if we can't save him?" He didn't think he'd ever heard Romano this quiet before. "What if…what if there's a new Spain?"

"That's ridiculous, Romano." France said sternly, but he was now thinking the same thing. If Spain died…as long as his country was still around, wouldn't there have to be a representative for it? He frowned-there had never been a situation like this as far as they knew. He swallowed, glancing back down at Spain. "Dieu…"

"That fucker better actually show up tomorrow." Romano grumbled dangerously, and France raised an eyebrow.

"You actually got him to agree to come here?" Romano nodded stiffly. "And 'ow did you manage that?"

"I told him what he'd done." Not a complete lie, but Romano knew France wouldn't approve of his threats. But what else was he supposed to do? Spain was the only person in the world he'd ever loved this much, and if he had to lose him…he didn't know if he could handle that. He bit his lip, staring down at Spain's calm face. He would pull every string he had if it meant keeping Spain by his side. He grimaced-he wasn't the home of the Mafia for nothing.

"Nn…Roma?"

Romano started, not realizing that Spain had woken up. He blushed, but put a hand on his arm as Spain squirmed slightly.

"I'm right here, bastard."

"Mm…bueno." Spain smiled sleepily, and Romano sighed.

"Go back to sleep, tomato bastard. I-I'll be right here." His face flushed bright red when he said it, but he laced his fingers with Spain's cold ones. Spain's smile widened a bit, and his green eyes opened a crack. Neither of them noticed a smiling France making his way out of the room.

"Lie down with me? Por favor?" he whispered, and it was barely even audible. Romano swallowed, feeling the familiar prickle of tears, but he had cried them all out already. He laid himself down next to Spain, still holding onto his hand as he cuddled close to him. Spain let out a weak chuckle was asleep in seconds, but Romano didn't move. He realized, blushing, that he really didn't want to.


	6. Day Five

Day Five

oOoOoOo

"Antonio? Antonio, fuck wake up, this isn't funny!"

France woke from his doze to see Romano on his knees, shaking Spain gently, his hazel eyes wide with fear. He woke up instantly, shooting out of the chair he had fallen asleep in.

"Romano? What's wrong?"

"H-he's not waking up…!" Romano's breathing hitched as he tried to hold back sobs. "He's-he's breathing, but I can't get him to wake up, o-or respond to my voice, or…fuck..."

"Dieu." France breathed, heart skipping a beat, the mantra in his head saying _that'snotgoodthat'snotgoodhe'sgoingtodiehe'sgoingtodie,Dieu,he'sgoingtodie_… "How long have you been trying, Lovino?"

"A-a few minutes. Fuck, this isn't good, this is really, really fucking bad." Romano was shaking, and he clutched his head as he breathing sped up. France's eyes widened, fearing a panic attack, and he immediately tried to calm the other nation down. It took a few minutes, but he knew Romano was fine when he whacked the hand rubbing circles into his back. "I'm f-fine, wine bastard."

"Are you sure?" France asked kindly. Had they been in any other situation, such camaraderie would have been seen as strange, but with all that was happening, neither of them even noticed, too locked in their own private grief.

Romano just gazed down at Spain, who was breathing was laboured and he still wouldn't open his eyes or even respond to his voice. He missed the usual Spain, the one who always had a smile for Romano, even if all he gave in return was harsh glares and insults. He wished Spain was awake, so he could tell him the truth, that he really did love him. Spain had always told him that he understood, that he knew what Romano meant, but he knew how much his finally saying it to him would mean to the Spaniard. He grabbed the unconscious man's hand, whispering under his breath.

"Te amo, Antonio. Te amo mucho…."

Spain didn't even stir, and somehow that hurt more than anything. If Romano even hinted at the phrase normally Spain would have jumped on him and kissed him silly, his sunny laughter pouring from his lips. To see him so pale, so still, so…Romano shook his head. He wasn't dead yet, he was still breathing, and fuck if Romano was going to let him stop.

oOoOoOo

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Italy whimpered, though he realized that his brother's expression was far softer than normal, and that worried him. Romano just crossed his arms and glared at Germany, who had driven Italy to the house (claiming it was because he didn't trust Italy to drive by himself, which was a valid argument). Romano didn't even say a scathing comment to Germany, and Italy was suddenly very concerned.

"What's wrong, Lovino?" He asked softly, and he swore Romano's lower lip trembled a bit.

"Spain…he's…he won't wake up."

Italy gasped, hands flying to his mouth, and even Germany looked shocked, his blonde eyebrows raising ever-so-slightly.

"Has it gotten that bad already?" He said, voice unusually soft, and Romano just nodded stiffly.

"I-I've been trying all morning to think up something, a-anything to save him, but…fuck, none of it works." Romano whispered, and Italy immediately darted forward and hugged his brother tightly.

"I'll help you, fratello. I-I don't want big brother Spain to die either…"

Romano didn't hug back, but he didn't push his brother away either. After a long minute he whispered.

"Grazie, Veneziano."

Italy just smiled sadly and hugged his brother tightly, just as France walked down the stairs, smiling wearily when he spotted Italy.

"Ah, Italie, what a lovely surprise."

"Big brother France!" Italy smiled, though there was still a bit of worry behind it. France smiled weakly, ruffling Italy's hair.

"Bonjour, Italie. What are you doing here-shouldn't you be at the meeting? I thought they were still going on?"

"I called them off in the face of the current crisis." Germany spoke, his voice sure and clipped as always, but France was not fooled. Almost every nation was at least a bit shaken by the current situation, if not only because they were worried about something similar happening to themselves. He nodded grimly, sighing.

"Yes, it is…worrisome." Well, that was watering it down, but France didn't know if he even wanted to admit how bad things had gotten. "In fact, we are expecting Monsieur Velasquez any minute now."

"That's his boss, right?" Italy piped up, and then he surprised them by saying. "The bastardo who did this to Spain?"

Even Romano was a little surprised by the dangerous glint in his brother's eyes, but then he remembered just how similar they really were-after all, they both were the country of the Mafia. His mouth quirked up in a sad imitation of a smile, but Italy's smile returned, and he hugged Romano tightly.

"Fratello smiled!" Italy smiled, though his eyes shut and his voice grew oddly serious. "Big brother Spain would want fratello to be happy no matter what, but I think that fratello wishes for the same thing."

"What are you rambling on about?" Romano grumbled, and Italy just hugged him tightly.

"I'm sure big brother Spain is happy that you are trying your hardest to make sure he gets better, but he wouldn't want fratello to do anything stupid either."

Romano almost said "look who's talking", but he also knew Italy was right. Spain was already going to be upset that Romano had threatened his boss, but if he hadn't then there would be zero chance of his survival, and Romano didn't think he could bear that. He sighed softly, hugging his brother tightly.

"Grazie, Veneziano. I-"

At that moment the doorbell rang and Romano released his brother and ran to the door before anyone else, flinging it open. Velasquez stood there, surprisingly alone, fist still raised. He blinked rapidly, but recovered quickly and arranged his face into a carefully neutral expression.

"Buenos tardes, Vargas."

"Ciao." Romano grumbled, but he stepped aside to let the other man in. After what had happened that morning, he had realized that this man might be his only hope, and so he tried to be civil. "Would you…like something to drink?"

Velasquez gaped at him like he'd grown a third head, and then his mouth set in a frown.

"Something happened."

Romano froze with one hand on the doorknob, his back still turned. After a long moment he nodded stiffly, saying in a low voice.

"He won't wake up. He's…even though I called his name, a-and shook him…he doesn't even respond."

Italy gasped softly, hands flying up to his mouth, even though he already knew of the situation. Velasquez just stared at him, though his steely eyes widened just a bit at Romano's description. Romano just bit his lip and whispered.

"You have to help him. Por favor…I'm begging you, save Antonio."

"I…I will try my hardest." The man finally said, and Romano just nodded and whispered.

"I'll take you upstairs."

oOoOoOo

"They've been up there awhile."

France just nodded at Germany's statement, taking a sip from his wineglass but not looking up from the table. They had left Romano and Velasquez alone to try and figure out a way to keep Spain from slipping away from them entirely. They hadn't heard much of anything from upstairs since, but none of them could muster the courage to go up there to check. Italy was cooking pasta and the stove to distract himself from the situation, and Germany was nursing a beer and remaining stoic as always. France took another sip of his wine, yawning. Neither he nor Romano had slept much, though he had a feeling Romano hadn't even slept at all from the bags under his eyes. He wanted to help him, but he didn't know how much help he could be at this point. He was yawning again when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he jolted in surprise. When he looked up he saw Germany had stood up, looking down at him with a sombre frown.

"You should get some rest."

"Mais, je ne peux pa-"

"You need rest, Francis." Germany said sternly, but he also saw something akin to pity in the Germans' eyes. "I can tell you haven't been sleeping much. Spain would want you to take care of yourself."

"But how can I leave my dear friend like this? He is dying, Ludwig-"

"I am well aware of it, France." Germany said calmly, taking France's glass before he could take another sip. "Go lie down in the living room. Feliciano or I will wake you if something changes."

France glared at him for a moment, but then gave in with a sigh.

"Fine, I will sleep for now. But if anything happens…"

"We'll get you. Now go."

France just nodded and walked to the living room slowly, and they could hear the couch springs squeaking as he flung himself onto it. In a matter of moments his snores could be heard, and Germany sighed, running a hand though his slicked back hair. Italy came up behind him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, his amber eyes solemn.

"Brother Spain will be okay, right?" He paused, looking down as his fingers clutched at Germany's shirtsleeve. "Fratello won't let him die…he'll be okay, right, Ludwig?"

Germany blinked when he realized the other nation was crying, hesitating for a moment before he turned and pulled Italy into an unexpected hug. Italy froze for a moment before bursting out into noisy sobs, clutching at Germany's shirt as his entire body trembled. The blonde just rubbed his back soothingly, frowning.

"Hush, it's going to be just fine." He said, only the slightest bit awkward. He had gotten used to comforting the Italian over the years, though it still troubled him when the other nation cried. He just sighed softly and held him tight, offering what comfort he could, even though Italy knew just as well as he did that things weren't looking great for their sunny compatriot right then.

oOoOoOo

Romano wasn't sure what he expected to happen when he brought the man into Spain's room. Maybe he wanted him to suddenly sit up, greeting him as cheerfully as any other day. Even just to see those emerald eyes bright and shining, even open at all, and he would burst into tears of pure joy. But neither happened, and the other nation remained prone and all too pale on the bed, not even the slightest twitch as Romano went over and sat on the edge of the bed. Velasquez followed him a bit warily, but when he noticed the still figure of his nation he froze, steely eyes widening.

"Dios mio…"

Spain looked practically dead, his normally golden skin nearly the colour of his cream bed sheets. His breathing was shallow to the point you had to squint to even notice the rise and fall of his chest, and when the human reached out his hand to touch him the skin was cold and almost clammy to the touch. Velasquez jerked his arm back, looking over at the other nation perched a few feet away, gauging his reaction with hazel eyes devoid of emotion.

"Didn't think it was this bad, did you, you bastard? It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

"Vargas-"

"He's finally quiet, and I daresay he hasn't been bouncing around much lately, or even moving for that matter…" Romano bowed his head, his hands clenching into fists. "This is what you wanted. He's going to fucking die, he'll be gone, and you'll finally be fucking rid of him!"

"I didn't mean for this to happen!" Velasquez snapped, glaring at the Italian man. "I-I didn't mean for him to die because of this! I mean…mierda, I didn't mean for this to happen, I've just been trying to fix our economic situation before we go completely belly up, and…"

The man fell silent, staring at the comatose man on the bed. Romano just continued to gaze at the floor, and when he spoke his voice was soft but still carrying a dangerous edge.

"It doesn't matter if you meant it or not, Antonio is still dying…most of you don't understand just how much sway your words have on us." Romano swallowed thickly. "We are bound to follow whatever our bosses tell us we should do, we don't have a choice…if you told him to disappear, than he has no choice but to do as you say."

"So if I tell him to come back, that should fix it, right?" The older man looked at him, a deep frown on his face. "If I said he needed to live, than he won't die, am I right?"

"I don't fucking know!" Romano snapped, but his voice was softer than before. "Y-you better be able to fix him, though, otherwise… fuck, I don't know, but you'll regret it!"

Velasquez couldn't bring himself to be mad at the Italian, not when he looked at the prone figure on the bed, and the tears now once again built up in hazel eyes. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

"I don't fucking know." Romano grumbled, bringing his legs up to his chest and hugging them tightly. "But you better think of something."

Velasquez nodded, turning to look back at man that lay on the bed. He took another deep breath, shutting his eyes as he spoke.

"I didn't mean for this to happen to you. Sure, you can be a giant pain, and you really are far too careless and optimistic, but…" He gulped, opening his eyes and staring at the wall as he spoke. "You really are the embodiment of our nation. You're carefree, but also strong-willed and hardworking, and it would really be a loss if you were gone."

He paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts as he looked back down at Spain. The nation hadn't moved a bit during his entire speech, and Romano was glancing between the two with a far-too neutral expression. He sighed and then continued.

"I didn't mean to make you disappear with my words, I really didn't. I know I've been a bit of a jerk-"

"Well there's an understatement." Romano whispered, snorting derisively, but it held none of its usual venom.

"-okay, more than just a bit. I've always known that I'm not the kindest of men, and that I've been wearing myself too thin with work and trying to fix everything for you. You've been trying your hardest as well, and I should know that. And…damn it, I didn't mean it, will you just come back!"

Romano should've known the man could only be sincere for so long, but somehow he had a feeling the human leader meant every word he said. He kept his eyes on Spain, looking for the slightest movement, anything, but there was nothing. In fact, he seemed even paler, and…Romano froze, and then scrambled closer to the other nation.

"Antonio? Antonio, this isn't funny, you're supposed to be waking up, not…" His eyes widened even more as he placed a shaking hand over the other's mouth, hoping to feel even the faintest breath. "Fuck, no, yo-you have to be breathing, you can't die, you ca-can't-fuck, Antonio, don't do this to me! ANTONIO!"

Velasquez froze when Romano's cries sank in, and he took a step back from the bed, his eyes widening as he watched Romano's tears drip onto Spain's entirely too-still chest.

Spain was gone.

They had failed.

He shut his eyes and sank to the floor just as Romano opened his mouth wide and let out a heart-wrenching scream.

oOoOoOo

France woke with a jolt at the sound of a shrill scream, body slamming to the floor. He groaned, rubbing his back as he looked up at the couch he had fallen from, vaguely disoriented. When he remembered what was going on, however, he gasped and pushed himself to his feet, bounding up the stairs just shy of Germany and Italy. He nearly collided into them as they froze in the doorway, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach when he looked inside the room.

Romano was on the bed, hands clutching at the sides of his head and eyes screwed shut, tears pouring down his cheeks. He was still on the bed, right next to…

France felt his breath hitch as he forced his way past Germany and Italy, past the frozen man on the floor and right to the bed. He stared down at the man on the bed, not wanting to believe it, not wanting it to be true, but he knew that he couldn't deny it…

It was Italy who broke the silence, a loud sob escaping his lips as he immediately threw himself into Germany's arms, tears pouring down his cheeks in a steady flow. Germany put his arms around the other, his azure eyes locked on the other half of Italy who remained frown on the bed, mouth open in a silent scream as his eyes seemed to stare at nothing. When his breaths started quickening and his entire body shaking, however, Germany said in a soft yet firm voice.

"Francis, you need to calm him down."

The other blonde didn't seem to register his words for a moment, but after several repetitions he shook himself and knelt by the side of the bed, putting a hand on Romano's back and saying in a surprisingly calm voice.

"Romano, you need to calm down, mon ami…you are going into shock, you need to take deep breaths…"

The Italian didn't even seem to hear him, unseeing eyes still locked on Spain's face as his trepidation increased. France frowned, pulling Romano away so he couldn't see Spain at all, holding him in a tight embrace. Romano was trembling violently, arms now limp at his sides. They sat in silence for several minutes until it was finally broken by Velasquez.

"Mierda…"

The silence was broken as Romano broke away from France, the man falling to the floor as he launched himself at the human on the floor, screaming.

"You fucker! This is all your fault, you killed him! I hate you, I fucking hate you, you deserve to die for what you did to him!"

"F-fratello!" Italy squeaked, but Germany stopped him from running to his brother for his own safety. He frowned, feeling pity swell in his heart as he intoned.

"Romano, let him go."

"Shut the fuck up, you potato loving bastard! He killed Antonio, the fucker deserves to die too!" Romano was sobbing, but his hands were around Velasquez's neck gripping tightly. He didn't even loosen his grip at all until France grabbed his arms and tugged him back, wincing as Romano's elbow rammed into his ribs.

"Romano, stop it, this is ridiculous!"

"Shut the fuck up! I bet you don't even care that he's dead, that this son of a bitch killed him-!"

"Do you even know what you're saying?" France snapped, shaking Romano none-too-gently. "Toni was my friend, and that's why I am stopping you. He wouldn't want this, and you know it!"

"How do you know? He can't say anything-!"

Germany and Italy winced as France slapped Romano across the face, the sharp sound echoing off the walls. The blonde nation's chest was heaving, blue eyes watery as he glared at the brunette in front of him.

"You idiot! Do you think he would want you to do this? Do you…do you think Toni would want you to kill him? Because I can assure you that is definitely not what he would do. He would forgive, and smile, and try to continue to live his life, because _that's what he stood for!_ "

Romano was frozen, his cheek red and eyes stinging as more tears poured down his cheeks. He knew France was right, that Spain would never approve of such tactics, but how was he supposed to react? Was he just supposed to let the man go on with his life, like he hadn't just killed the man he had loved for centuries? The man he'd now never get to say those words to, to let him know what he'd always meant to him…Romano slumped, covering his eyes as he began sobbing heavily. France just let him, sitting back and shutting his eyes before any tears could slip out. Velasquez was silent other than his rasping breaths as he massaged his throat, trying to regain control of his breathing. He was solemn, and he didn't seem at all angry or surprised that the Italian had jumped him. They sat as such until Germany finally cleared his throat several minutes later.

"Someone should inform bruder and the others."

That was what finally set France off, thinking of how he was supposed to inform Prussia of their friend's passing. He covered his face as he started to cry, reality sinking in his gut like a rock. Spain was gone, gone forever, along with his smiles and laughter and cheery disposition…they had failed to save him. Germany just cleared his throat, arms still holding Italy tightly.

"We shall have to look into the situation immediately. We need to ensure something like this does not happen ever again, get the word out to each and every nation…" He sighed, clearing his throat again. "We do not want any of the others to take advantage of this information either."

Romano was blocking out Germany's speech, locked away in his own private thoughts, of dreams and a future that was now lost to him forever. He was so locked in his mind that he didn't realize the others had gone silent, and it took almost an entire minute for the faint words to reach his ears.

"…te…amo…"

Romano froze, his mind going numb for a long moment before he forced himself to turn around, to let the faint flicker of hope in his heart confirm what he thought was only a ghost of a memory, but when he turned and saw emerald eyes cracked open only a sliver his heart stopped for another reason entirely.

"An…tonio?"

A weak smile, and Romano nearly passed out right then and there. There was a brief moment of silence and then he flung himself at the bed, sobbing.

"You idiot! You stupid, fucking, wonderful bastard, I…I…"

"Sh, Lovi…don't cry…" Spain's voice was weak, but he was breathing, and very much alive, and both France and Italy perked up, Italy's face suddenly breaking out into a grin as he looked at his brother, who was now hugging Spain tightly, tears soaking his shirt.

"You t-t-tomato b-bastard! You f-fucking scared me, don't do that to me e-ever again, T-Toni!"

Spain laughed breathily, his hand limply reaching for Romano's and lacing their fingers together.

"I don't plan on it, Lovi…I love you too much…to die just yet…"

That just made Romano cry even harder, but he squeezed Spain's hand tightly, as if he was afraid to let go. He probably was, and rightfully so…Germany found himself smiling faintly in relief, and France just stood up, going to stand at the side of the bed with a smile as put a hand on his friend's arm.

"You really gave us a fright, mon ami."

"Lo siento…" Spain said, smiling weakly. "I wasn't trying to…"

"How did he come back?"

Everyone turned at the sound of Velasquez's rasping voice, and Romano's eyes narrowed a bit. Spain just attempted to shrug, laughing faintly.

"I don't know…I heard Lovi's voice…I just followed it back…"

"Shut up, you cheesy bastard…!" Romano grumbled, his cheeks flushing as he buried his face in Spain's shirt again, but everyone was happy to note the smallest of smiles on his lips as he admitted softly. "I'm glad you're back…te amo…"

"Te amo mucho, Lovi…" Spain whispered, his eyes slowly fluttering closed, and Romano immediately panicked.

"Antonio? B-bastard, is something wrong?"

"Jus' tired, Lovi." Spain replied, smiling a bit as he squeezed Romano's hand weakly. "Don't worry, I'm not…going to leave you again…"

Romano would never admit it, but his eyes filled with tears at the statement even as a small smile made its way to his lips.

"You better not." He whispered, and Spain just chuckled weakly, still holding onto his hand as he whispered faintly.

"Stay..?"

Romano swallowed and nodded.

"Like I would leave you now…" he muttered, face flushed as he curled up at Spain's side. France smiled softly, and Italy was smiling now, hugging onto Germany's arm as he whispered.

"We should leave them alone, Ludi."

Germany made a face at the nickname, but he nodded and let Italy drag him out of the room. France followed with one last glance over at the couple, grabbing Velasquez by the arm and dragging him out of the room with him.

"We're not done with you just yet." He whispered, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. The man just swallowed and nodded, knowing better than to deny it. He shuddered to think what would have happened if Spain hadn't awoken when he did. The utter hatred and pain in Romano's hazel eyes was likely to haunt him for years, but somehow he felt like he deserved it. When he looked back at the now closed door, he knew he probably did.


	7. Day Six: The End

Day Six: The End

oOoOoOo

Spain woke up slowly, yawning as he sat up. He was happy to notice that his body didn't feel half as weak as he had when he first woke up. Romano shifted at his side, grumbling something in his sleep and clutching at Spain's shirt. The older nation chuckled softly, kissing the top of Romano's head. He had no idea what had transpired in the short time he had been out for the count, but from what he had gathered Romano had been very upset by it. Somehow he found that more comforting than he should have. It meant that Romano cared for him-not that he didn't already know that, but it solidified it in his mind, and made him love the Italian even more. Romano twitched, his eyelids fluttering open slowly and he nuzzled Spain's shirt sleepily.

"Buon giorno." He mumbled, and Spain smiled. He loved Romano when he was still a bit sleepy, because his guard wasn't up and he was almost kitten-like in the way he curled up next to Spain.

"Buenas dìas, Roma." He whispered, kissing his cheek. Romano whacked his hand away half-heartedly, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face.

"You're really here…it wasn't just a dream."

"Nope!" Spain chirped cheerfully, laughing softly. "I'm perfectly alright now!"

"Stupid bastard…" Romano grumbled, hitting his chest lightly, but Spain just smiled and put his arm around him.

"Te amo, Lovino."

"…ti amo."

Spain raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised by Romano's words-he rarely ever told him such straight up. He looked down at his face, and was surprised to find Romano's eyes glistening.

"Ay, Lovi, what's wrong?"

"N-nothing…stupid tomato…b-bastard…" Romano sniffed, hiding his face in Spain's shirt. "'s all your fault anyways…"

"Huh? What…oh." Spain sighed softly, nuzzling his nose into Romano's hair. "I promised never to leave you again, Lovi."

"Y-you weren't supposed to leave the first time, damn it…" Romano grumbled into his shirt, but Spain could feel him shaking a bit and felt his heart well with pity and slightest bit of guilt.

"Lo siento, Roma…I tried not to worry you."

"Just shut up!" Romano snapped, but he let Spain hug him tightly, humming one of his old tunes under his breath as he stroked Romano's hair. The other nation made no comment, and just kept his face hidden in Spain's shirt, soaking in the warmth, the simple fact that he was there, he was i alive, /i and Romano realized that he was no longer crying from sadness but from relief. Spain smiled softly, kissing the top of Romano's hair.

"Te amo, Roma…"

"Ti amo, tomato bastard…Toni, ti amo…" Romano whispered into his shirt, surprising Spain by lifting his head and kissing his cheek. His cheek burned bright scarlet and he tried to hide his head automatically, but then Spain tilted up his chin and pressed their lips together. It only took a moment for Romano to kiss him back gently, though his cheeks were on fire. When they finally broke apart Spain was beaming like a small child on Christmas morning, and Romano was looking down at the sheets. Spain put his arms around him and hugged him tightly, sighing happily.

"I'm glad I came back. I could never leave you alone, querido."

Romano blushed deeper, but he finally looked up and met Spain's gaze, surprised to find his green eyes full of complete sincerity. He curled his fingers in Spain's shirt, bowing his head as he whispered softly.

"I'm very happy you're alive, Antonio. Without you…I don't know what I'd do."

Spain raised his eyebrows, surprised at the complete and utter sincerity in Romano's voice, something that didn't happen all too often. He smiled, reaching forward and hugging him again.

"It's alright, I'll never leave you again, Lovi, I promised."

"That doesn't mean anything, damn it." Romano grumbled, but he held onto Spain tightly and somehow, he realised that he believed him. Spain would never leave him when it was within his power-he had already proved that once, hadn't he? Romano sighed softly, closing his eyes and resting his head against Spain's shoulder, feeling a small smile make its way to his lips.

"_Ti amo, Antontio_…"

oOoOoOo

A/N: Aaaaand that's the end! ;w;/ Please review and all that stuff!


End file.
